


The Chickens

by thatsoccercoach



Series: Which Door? (Fluffy Fraser Fics) [69]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, and chickens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsoccercoach/pseuds/thatsoccercoach
Summary: Faith has been conducting some research...





	The Chickens

                                                              

“I’ve been doing some research,” Faith said seriously, swinging her backpack down to the entryway floor then quickly snatching it back up when Fergus came toddling toward it.

Brianna flung the door wide only a moment later, narrowly missing her brother, then slammed it shut behind her entering in a whirlwind of energy. “Me too!” she chimed in. “Wait, Faith, were you telling Mama you want a snack or were you saying something else?” she scrunched up her nose in confusion.

“I was talking about my research,” Faith explained, slipping off her shoes and taking her backpack to the kitchen counter out of reach of the toddlers.

“Oh,” shrugged Bree. “I only wanted an after-school snack.” She scrambled down the hallway after her mother and big sister.

“We can have a snack too and listen to Faith’s research while we do. It’ll be a nice way to catch up on the day. Why don’t you go get Fergus and Willa and ask if they want to eat as well, ok?” Claire kissed Bree’s forehead then nudged her to go find the littlest Frasers.

Their second daughter, turned, took three steps, and hollered “Willa! Fergus! Snacks!” then plopped into a chair at the kitchen table.

Faith rolled her eyes in mock exasperation and smiled at her mama over Bree’s head as if sharing a little secret between the two of them.

“Tell me about your research, darling,” Claire prompted, setting glasses of milk in front of her older girls and then putting lids on colorful, plastic cups for the toddlers. “Has your class been working on something?”

“I’ve been working on my  _own_ ,” she declared primly. “We’re learning how to use our library and we’ve a large database of information, just for our school,” she explained. “You  _do_ know what ‘database’ means, right Mama?”

“I do, Love,” Claire confirmed with a smile and nod.

“Well, I’ve been using it to research chickens. It took me a little while to find what I needed because the word ‘chickens’ is spelled with an ‘ens’ not ‘ins’ at the end and that confused me.”

Her eyes,  _my eyes_  thought Claire proudly, were wide as she spoke emphatically.

“But, I really want some chickens, Mama.  _Really_ , really want them!” Now her hands were clasped together as if she was praying and her eyes were still wide but it was with longing instead of insistence.

“We have ‘nacks too, Mama?” Fergus came into the kitchen pulling Willa by the hand. “Lilla and I can haves ‘nacks too?”

“Pease?” inserted Willa.

“Of course. Sit down at your table, little loves. Faith is just telling us about the chickens she wants.”

“Lilla likes chickens. I likes chickens too!” Fergus proclaimed, making his sisters laugh.

“I’m working on a list of why we ought to have them. Can you talk to Da about it for me, Mama? I know he’s working until late, but this is  _very_ important!” She produced a sheet of paper, somehow completely smooth in spite of coming home in the backpack of a seven year old.

“Here is what I’ve written so far. They’re not all sentences, because sentences have nouns and verbs. You know what those are, right Mama?”

“I do indeed,” Claire sat down at the kitchen table with her children and began to enjoy a snack with them. “And I’d be quite pleased to share your research with your da. I think he’ll be impressed with your thoroughness though I’m not sure how he’ll respond to the thought of chickens,” she said honestly.

“I really,  _really_ want them!” she said again.

“You already told us that.” Now it was Bree’s turn to roll her eyes.

“I know, love. We’ll talk about it,” Claire reassured Faith.

* * *

“Sorcha?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“I thought you’d be asleep after, well… after all tha’ we did.”

She could practically  _hear_ him wiggling his eyebrows in the dark of their room and she chuckled, softly.

“I’m thinking about chickens,” she whispered back to him.

“That’s no’ verra reassuring,” he replied.

“Well,” she giggled, beginning to explain.

“I thought maybe you’d be dreaming of what we did, of how it made ye feel. Ye did say say somethin’ about me making yer dreams come true or something along those lines.”

“I did? I suppose I don’t really remember what I said,” she responded, surprised and amused.

“That and ye made those wee noises that ye do when you’re…content,” he continued.

“I do  _not_ make wee noises!” she whispered indignantly.

“Aye, ye do. But since you’ve moved onto chickens anyway,” he broke off, rolled close, and kissed her soundly, stopping her arguments. “Chickens,” he repeated.

“Oh, yes,” she sighed. “Well, Faith wants some. She’s completed research and everything. It seems completely ridiculous to consider getting chickens, but Jamie, you know how Faith just  _glows_ with joy when she’s caring for someone or something? I can just imagine her doing the same with chickens. It’s not as if we don’t already have a pet. And it’s not as if we hadn’t thought of getting chickens before either.”

There was nearly a begging note in her voice and her husband chuckled softly.

“Are ye trying to convince me then? Because if you think it wise, I think we ought to do it.”

“Really?”

“O’ course, Claire. Faith is diligent in caring for anything and everything, like ye said. She’ll learn  _how_ it’s to be done and will love to do it well. And,” he paused. “I canna wait to see the look on her wee face when we tell her she can have her chickens! There’s no’ a thing as contagious as her joy,” he said, settling close and pulling her against him.

Claire sighed and pressed the length of her body against the strong lines of her husband’s.

“Can you try that one thing again?” she asked softly.

“Which one?”

“The one I said made my dreams come true?” she rolled to face him.

“Oh? Back before the chickens, then?” He paused. “Oh, aye. I’ll  _try_.”

She could almost hear his smile.


End file.
